


Full Circle

by Minim Calibre (minim_calibre)



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angel Book of Days Challenge, Episode: s04e05 Supersymmetry, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-11-03
Updated: 2003-11-03
Packaged: 2017-10-31 07:37:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minim_calibre/pseuds/Minim%20Calibre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Timeline ~ AU after Supersymmetry</p>
            </blockquote>





	Full Circle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [roseveare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseveare/gifts).



The usual wasn't, well, usual. Fred stared at her breakfast: pancakes with sausages and bacon, eggs (scrambled), coffee (cream and sugar), toast (white). All the usual food and drink, brought by their usual waitress to their usual booth, nothing missing except her usual appetite and her usual companion. 

"Where's your fellow today, honey?" The gravelly warmth of Tilly's voice seemed to flood the room without making a dent in the chill Fred had been feeling since the portal'd closed. Maybe that's what they meant when they talked about cold-blooded killings. Maybe murder did something to your body chemistry that lowered your temperature a notch and made it so you'd never feel warm again, even if the fall air was as warm as most places were in the summer, and you were drinking piping hot coffee like it was water.

"Charles is at home. He's feeling a little under the weather." She forced a smile.

"Well, you tell him Tilly said she hopes he feels better soon. You want a warm-up on that coffee, hon?"

"Sure, thanks." 

Fred added three more packets of sugar and one more container of half and half to the coffee. Light and sweet. "Just like you," Charles had said the first time he'd seen the way she drank it, back when she was still crazy. And of course she'd laughed and blushed and ducked her head and had that really been only a year or so ago? It felt like longer. Everything that wasn't yesterday felt like it was another lifetime.

Cold yellow eggs, soggy pancakes, and bacon and sausage shiny with cooling grease stared up at her from the thick off-white plate, and she felt her stomach lurch and not in the good way. After nibbling on the edges of the tepid toast, she pushed the plate away and gave up. The caffeine and sucrose would keep her going for a while at least.

A click of high-heeled shoes and a breeze of expensive perfume, neither of which was something you normally found in a place like this, was the only warning she had before her solo breakfast went from bad to so bad she'd almost rather relived the murder and/or the strained post-murder efforts at conversation that had lead to strained post-murder efforts at sleeping. 

Lilah Morgan smiled, slid into the Charles-less space across from Fred, and asked, "Mind if I join you?" Fred nodded, but the she-bitch of Wolfram and Hart didn't exactly get up and go away. Instead, she opened a slim leather briefcase, pulled out a manila envelope, and got to the point. "Let's make a deal."

"I don't deal with the devil."

One glossy fingernail slid under the envelope's flap, easing it open before Lilah slid its contents out slowly and gently. "You do if you know what's good for you." The series of pictures told their story in stark black and white. Open. Snap. Shut. 

Fred didn't even bother with asking why or how Lilah had managed to get pictures of everything that happened in Seidel's office. "What do you want?"

"That bright little brain of yours for a little project of mine."

"What happens if I say no?"

Lilah slid the pictures back in the envelope, and the envelope back in the briefcase. "The originals of these find their way into the hands of some interested parties at the LAPD." She smiled, looking smug and feline. "I hope you didn't think these were the only copies."

"This is blackmail." 

"And that was murder. I'm impressed. Didn't think you had it in you. But this isn't really the place to be hammering out negotiations. Pay your bill and meet me out front."

***

Lilah had to hand it to her: the Twig didn't dawdle. Those skinny little legs were out the diner door and headed her way before Lilah had even managed to get comfortable. 

"A limo?" Fred sounded indignant and disbelieving all at once, but she got in the car. 

Deliberately stretching her legs into the other woman's personal space, Lilah stroked the smooth leather of the seat. "You like it? They impress the clients."

"I'm not a client." The chin went up a self-righteous notch that Lilah couldn't wait to take down.

"No, you're a contractor." She crossed her ankles, letting the toe of one Jimmy Choo brush up against the shapeless distressed denim of Fred's jeans, watching as self-righteous turned into self-conscious. "I know what you're thinking. You're thinking Angel will get you out of this, save you from the big bad Wolfram and Hart. He won't. You know why? Because you're not going to tell him a thing. Well, you could, but--" she tapped her briefcase "--a picture's worth a thousand words."

She explained the proposed project quickly and in small words, enjoying the flares of resentment and confusion that exploded just below the surface of Fred's expression.

"You want me to somehow take Professor Seidel's research into portals, his ways of calling them remotely with digital devices, and adjust it for use on various PDAs, ultimately leading to a unified system for transportation and destruction? You don't need me for that."

"I want one that's fool-proof, and after the time you've spent around Angel and company, you should know all about making things for idiots. Since your return to this dimension, we know you've been making up for lost time, studying the latest movements in programming and communications to make yourself useful." Lilah fingered her purse and smiled again. The last firmware update for her Wolfram and Hart supplied PDA had fixed the bugs in its portal spell software; she doubted anything Fred could come up with would work better. Especially since Seidel's work was based on a much earlier release, leaked by a now-former researcher and scrapped along with the body by the researchers replacements. "When you're not with me, you'll be staying at my apartment. It's cozy, has digital cable, and tracking systems that will let me know where you are at all times. Don't bother trying to dismantle them: the alarms have alarms."

Fred tried dismantling them twice the first day. Luckily, not while Lilah was in meetings. 

"I don't blame you for trying." Lilah slid out of her shoes and handed Fred the take-out bag. "But try pulling something like that again, and--" She drew a finger across her neck. Fred glared, that righteous indignation in full force. "Every window, door, nook, and cranny in this place is wired and under constant video surveillance, remember? Just be glad I'm not keeping you caged in my closet." A blank look. So, they didn't know all the sordid details of Angel's rescue from the deep blue. She'd expected as much, but confirmation never hurt. "Hope you like Chinese."

Fred liked Chinese, Thai, Indian, Mexican, and anything else Lilah brought home or had brought to the on-site setup on days she took Fred to Wolfram and Hart. Lilah watched her eat, wondering where it all went.

Now that she was close enough for Lilah to study, it turned out Fred wasn't as mealy-mouthed and meek as Lilah had always figured her to be. The fourth night, Lilah watched the surveillance video on her PDA, and decided to see if Wesley was ready to speak to her again rather than face disarming the various booby traps Fred had installed in the bedroom. One pair of glasses, a schoolgirl outfit, and a pair of pigtails later, and she had her answer. 

***

Five years in Pylea at least managed to give Fred a little perspective on the hell that was five days with Lilah. Unlike Pylea, Lilah's place had indoor plumbing, hot water, tacos, and in theory, she should be able to figure out a way to tell the people who mattered where she was and what was going on. Thank heavens for small mercies. She stared at the papers and the devices, wondering what code she should use when she used it to send a message to Angel. Of course, the only one there with a shot at translating the ones that would be hardest for Wolfram and Hart to intercept and decipher would be Wesley, and Wesley wasn't really a part of Angel Investigations anymore.

After the first day at Lilah's, going through her things and not caring that Lilah was watching every minute of it, Fred wasn't sure exactly what Wesley was a part of. Or what he was doing with Lilah, other than the obvious, which she'd discovered after about a half hour of snooping and about a half hour before she put two and two together and came up with a good (not to mention uncomfortably stomach-turning) reason why Lilah'd been having her watched. Of course, maybe Charles was right, and Wesley was playing them. She didn't really want to believe that, but everything in her world was topsy-turvy, and Occam's Razor suggested there was something rotten in Denmark.

She bit into an apple and considered using something simpler that Angel could get, then weighed the likelihood of Angel actually having his cell phone on his person, which was small, and decided that option wasn't the best one, either. 

The boom, like a thunderstorm times ten, hit a split second before the earth started rolling underneath her. She dropped the apple, watching as it rolled beneath the coffee table. Earthquake, big from the feel of it. She needed to head for a doorway. Fred looked out the window as she headed for the nearest doorjamb and saw fire falling like leaves.

She'd lived through Northridge and any number of little shakers before and after Pylea. She knew earthquakes, and had even spent time as an undergrad studying plate tectonics, because knowing was half the battle, and if you knew, you weren't as likely to panic and die as a result. This wasn't like anything she knew. Earthquakes didn't make fire rain from the sky.

There was no answer at the hotel. 

On auto-pilot, she went to the kitchen, took out a bag of popcorn, put it in the microwave, and went back to her notes while it popped, taking comfort in the familiarity of equations.

***

Hell on earth was almost pretty from a window office. 

Lilah felt the building shake, watched the fire falling, and listened to the same irritating voicemail message half a dozen times before she finally curled up under her desk and tried to sleep. Another half dozen messages and a couple more fitful attempts at resting later, things calmed down enough for her to leave the building.

As she drove through the traffic that was only slightly worse than usual, she wondered if her renter's insurance covered apocalypse, then wondered if Fred had made it through the night unscathed. 

Two knocks before Wesley answered. But he answered. He was there. Bruised and dirty and covered in ash and blood, but still kicking. If she believed in one, she'd thank God. 

"I left about a hundred messages. Don't worry about calling me back." His hands were already pushing off her coat before she finished saying the words.

***

"The Beast is in Wolfram and Hart." Wesley's voice, still hoarse from the smoke and shouting he'd told her about when he'd given her the rundown of the night's events, woke her. 

Lilah sat up and looked over at the clock. Shit. She was late for a meeting. She hadn't intended to fall asleep. "We have the best security in this or any other dimension. They'll take care of him in no time."

"He's already taken out more than half the staff. I believe the words used to describe the situation were 'systematic elimination'. My contact inside said they were under full lockdown." 

"Did Gavin say anything else?"

That earned her a small smile. "Gavin's not the contact to whom I was referring, Lilah, and no, I'm not telling you his or her name."

She shrugged. "It doesn't matter now. If Wolfram and Hart is under lockdown, your man on the inside isn't going to make it out alive."

If they were under full lockdown, that meant the meeting attendees were most likely dead by now, too, so it didn't really matter that she'd missed the meeting. She leaned over the edge of the bed, fumbled around, and pulled her cell phone from her purse. No answer at the main desk, no answer on Gavin's line, no answer at any of the numbers stored in the phone's memory. 

Lilah rubbed her eyes and got out of bed. Lockdown meant nobody got in or out of the building, which meant she had no way in hell of getting in touch with the Senior Partners. Rumpled item by rumpled item, she got dressed, pulling on one of his shirts when it turned out hers hadn't survived its removal and not even bothering with the ruined pantyhose. 

"I guess I'll be working from home today." She slung her purse over her shoulder and slid into her shoes to leave. "Assuming it's still intact."

"Lilah." Her name came out softer than she'd ever heard him say it, and she hesitated. "Get out of town while you have the chance."

She bristled. "What? Don't want the distraction while you're off with the Good n' Plentys?"

The slight wince told her she was right, even as he said, "I don't want to see you hurt, or worse."

"You're a coward, Wes." 

When he didn't respond, she let herself out and drove home. Aside from the ruined landscaping, her building was fine. 

Fred was still asleep, curled up on the couch with an empty bag of microwave popcorn, her notes and formulas and diagrams piled around her. Lilah let her rest while she tried to reach staff members who wouldn't normally be in the office.

Four pages into her list of numbers, she decided getting out of town was a good plan. She looked over at Fred. Two drivers could make better time than one. She packed two bags, then shook Fred awake. Fred looked at Lilah, looked at the bags, and bit her lip.

"Do I have time to make a phone call?"

"They all made it through last night alive." Lilah noticed that Fred didn't seem to question how she knew.

"I take it that's a no?"

"You love him, right?"

Fred nodded.

"And you left him a message letting him know you were fine?"

Another nod.

"Don't bother. You wouldn't want to distract him." Lilah turned abruptly towards the door, unwilling to face the sympathy she'd seen forming in Fred's eyes.

***

Fred watched Lilah as she sat on the edge of her hotel bed, brushing her hair and braiding it into neat little pigtails all without taking her eyes from the TV screen. The news was reporting on the heavy smog in L.A., the one that had blocked out the sun for a week and had sent the city into darkness. Riots, the anchor said, of had claimed hundreds of lives.

Charles was out in that, if he wasn't dead. And, of course, she was stuck here in the middle of podunk nowhere with the Hell Bitch and no way to get back to the people she loved or the place she called home, assuming it still existed. It was almost like Pylea, except for the part where in Pylea, there weren't any calling cards or telephones.

"I could call," Fred pressed the button on the remote that sent the TV into darkness. "I could say I'm at home and saw the news and find out what's really happening there."

Lilah raised one eyebrow and shrugged. "Go ahead."

"Wesley's probably fine. He lands on his feet pretty well in times of crisis."

"I said go ahead, not try and draw me into a conversation."

There was no answer at the Hyperion, or on Charles or Angel's phones. "What's Wesley's number?" She realized her skin had finally stopped crawling when she thought about them together. It must have happened around the same time her skin had stopped crawling at the thought that the world was probably ending and the only person she had to talk to was Lilah. Apocalypses made stranger bedfellows than politics.

Lilah's laugh was cracked and leaky like Grandma Burkle's old milk jug. "He hasn't answered the last three nights, I doubt he'll answer now even if it is you calling." Fred glanced over at her, puzzled. "I call it whenever you shower," Lilah explained. 

"Maybe they're just too busy fighting whatever caused this to answer." She didn't really believe it, no matter how much she wanted to.

"And maybe I'm just on a well-earned vacation from the firm at some luxury resort. Oh wait, I forgot. My whole firm's dead."

A week later, the news reported that the smog blanket had spread into Ventura county, with no signs of stopping. They kept heading East. Lilah started going out for food and coming back, worn and disheveled, with books as well. Fred didn't ask how she got them or from who: she didn't want to know. Not that that stopped Lilah from telling her.

"I still know people who like ripples. This made them." She wasn't, Fred realized, just talking about the situation. Lilah, still all lush and ripe under the travel dust and damaged clothing, had ways of getting her way that Fred despised and envied all at the same time. 

"Demonology, spells, divination." Fred looked at the pile of texts surrounding her. "This is all Wesley's area. I'm more a physics and chemistry girl, remember?"

Lilah's smile was tight. It always was when Wesley's name came up, which wasn't often. "Physics and chemistry won't help us survive. These might."

Her brain and Lilah's body were all they really had going for them. Well, that and the knowledge that the smog was something supernatural and horrible, most likely slowly smothering the whole of the earth like some sort of apocalyptical pillow. Single rooms were cheaper than doubles, so they started sharing a bed, never staying in one place longer than two nights, always keeping track of how far disaster had spread and how fast. As she lay there awake at night, running through formulas and calculations in an attempt at keeping herself sane, Fred was glad for the warmth of someone in bed next to her, reminding her that she wasn't alone in this.

They hit the state line just ahead of the darkness. The news had stopped talking about smog, and started talking about weird atmospheric conditions and heavy cloud cover. L.A. was in ruins, half the city evacuated and the other half probably dead. Lilah's last attempt at getting info almost wound up getting her killed, and Hell Bitch or no, Fred wasn't keen on the idea of losing her one connection to everything.

"Hold still." Fred tried to position yet another butterfly bandage over the split skin of Lilah's cheek. Stitches would have been better, or superglue, not that Lilah was going to let Fred within ten feet of her with a needle or toxic chemicals, even if the toxic chemicals had been invented for surgical reasons. "This isn't getting us anywhere, you know."

Lilah smiled, a pale shadow of the creepy feline smile that had crossed her lips back in L.A. anytime she didn't know Fred knew she was watching her. It tore the bandage off and sent a trickle of blood down her cheek as she slid her hand into the front left pocket of the cheap cargo pants Fred had stolen from a laundromat three days earlier, and pulled out a book. "Guess again."

Fred frowned at the title. "We already have this one. There's nothing in it, just like the rest of them."

"Open it at the page I've bookmarked." 

The woodcut was unmistakable. "The Beast."

"None other."

"But that's all there is, just information on what he is, nothing on how to kill him or get rid of him, or undo what he's done." And no one to track him down, even if they did have the information. It wasn't like it was something she and Lilah could do on their own.

"It's a start. Now that I know information on him exists, I can get it on the transdimensional black market. Someone somewhere is bound to have the rest of it."

"Yeah, and we're bound to not know what to do with it." And Lilah was bound to get killed one of these times. Fred set the book down and wiped the blood away before re-doing the bandaging. Lilah's skin was warmer than it should have been, and she was shaking slightly. They couldn't go on like this. "You need to rest."

She led an unresisting Lilah to the bed and tucked her in. When she was sure from the change in her breathing that Lilah was asleep, she went over to her bag and dug around until she found what she was looking for. 

The PDA gleamed a dull silver in the dim light of the room. She turned it on, made some adjustments to the settings, and set it and their bags on the foot of the bed before crawling in next to Lilah. Lilah moaned slightly in her sleep; Fred curled up against her, holding on and whispering an apology for what she'd done. 

The portal would open at 2:47 a.m., ripping and pulling them into somewhere else, where the sun wasn't vanishing and the world wasn't dying inch by inch. Fred had already made the calculations about the where. Sure, it was hell, but at least it was one she knew, given that she'd spent five years living in it. They'd be able to survive there until she figured out a better option, and if she was wrong about the calculations, well, they probably wouldn't feel a thing. 

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Roseveare in the Angel Book of Days Autumn Challenge. Prompt: Lilah and Fred
> 
> Author's notes ~ Thanks to everyone who put up with me while I was attempting to write this despite my brain having decided to go on hiatus and taking my temper with it.


End file.
